


Elements

by YashaAndKaya



Category: Defense of the Ancients | Dota, Dota 2
Genre: M/M, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YashaAndKaya/pseuds/YashaAndKaya
Summary: Anti-Mage struggles to resist the allure of a certain elementalist mage.





	Elements

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aditu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aditu/gifts).



> Set on the Dota battlefield, with AM and Invoker on the same team.

* * *

 

**Fire**

Before the sun is up, I am up. My daily regimen begins with deep meditation, followed by physical training and a quick bite before I’m off to the jungle, where I clear out one creep camp after another. This strict routine is something I picked up during my years spent at the Turstarkuri Monastery, and it works well for me. After sunset, I do not eat or drink, entering another round of meditation before I go to sleep at the exact same time every night.

“What a boring existence,” Carl drawls. His pearly eyes are unreadable, but there is a ghost of a smirk on his lips. His lifestyle is entirely different from mine; I’d say there isn’t a routine of any sort. Some nights, I am awoken from my sleep by the sounds of him reciting his spells, flipping his books, clinking his wine glasses or even playing his violin.

And even with all that, he is bored.

“Boredom has no place in my life,” I declare, full of pride in my unwavering self-discipline.

“Why not loosen up a little and join me for drinks tonight?”

“I do not drink; besides, the sun dictates the rhythm of my day.”

“Pfft,” he dismisses with a tilt of his head. “The sun does not dictate anything to me. On the contrary, I control the sun. The solar rays strike the earth at my command.”

Such in-your-face bragging repulses me. I flick a glance at his long hair the color of dawn sunlight, his slightly upswept ears and ridiculously opulent robes. I have never seen Carl exercise or work out, not even once. His chores are all taken care of by his servants – a pair of elementals forged of fire. Yet his figure remains lean. I suppose this is a trait of his race.

“Don’t you want to try something different?” he persists with a nudge and a trace of playfulness over his elfin features. “Lina’s single,” he nods at the redhead pyromancer planting a sentry ward near the jungle’s shrine.

“And so?” I keep my eyes fixed on the harpy I am killing. “I am not interested.”

I do have my urges, just like anyone else. But I believe I am stronger than my urges. The monastery’s teachings have said that attachment to people and things distracts us from the True Path. That is why I’ve always been wary about getting into relationships. Hooking up with someone just to relieve my urges doesn’t sound right either.

There is a special meditation technique I’d learned at the monastery, specifically for resisting temptations of the flesh. The steps are simple. First, one mentally takes apart the image of the alluring person, isolating the face, the body, and the limbs. Next, one zooms in on a single feature, such as the lips or the hair, and visualises each image shattering into a thousand fragments. Repeating this process on all body parts would enable one to successfully triumph over temptation.

I explain this to Carl, and his response is a snicker.

“Why fight your natural impulses and desires? Why not just go with the flow?” he says.

I remain quiet. Carl thinks he knows all the answers – apparently, he’s a thousand years old, or maybe double or triple of that. But living that long doesn’t necessarily mean he knows all the answers.

It’s somewhat difficult to think of Carl as ‘nice’, but he can be brimming with warmth, when he wants to.

Like that time at the satyr camp. I was on my daily grind, trying my best to do my job, but Lina kept taking my creeps while simultaneously nagging at me to ‘farm fast’. Gritting my teeth, I suppressed a retort as the goatlike creature collapsed before my blade. To hell with those mages and their obnoxious attitudes.

A pair of Manta Style axes dropped onto the ground at my feet. I looked up and saw a grinning Carl, flanked by his fire spirits.

“Wh- what is the meaning of this?” I said with jaw clenched.

“A gift,” the blond said, spreading his hands generously. “It will augment your powers greatly.”

“I need no help nor charity from anyone, least of all from you,” I snapped, arms folded and upright as a pillar.

Undaunted, he stepped closer, and I reacted by quickly stepping back. He bent over and picked up the Manta Style, his flaxen hair swinging forward and covering his face.

“Go on, try it,” he shoved the weapon into my arms.

Gripping the wooden handles, I peered into the reflective surface of the Manta Style. There were three of me in there. Lifting my head, I saw two perfect clones of myself staring back at me blankly, as if awaiting my commands.

I frowned at Carl. “Illusions?”

“Great for confusing the enemies.”

“You’re asking me to use… magic?” I curled my lips in disgust. “And deception?”

“Our objective is to win the war, my friend,” he gave my shoulder a squeeze with his long fingers. “And that is more important than your rock-hard principles,” he quipped, before striding off with his cape billowing in the wind.

I fumed and simmered over his arrogance. I didn’t want to resort to those Manta gimmicks, but neither did I want to lose the war. It’s not just my life, but four other lives I’m accountable for. The fate of my entire team rests upon my shoulders.

With a sigh, I turned my gaze towards my two clones.

 

**Ice**

When I’m finally done with my farming, I go around looking for him outside the base. As I walk past the middle tower, I sense his presence in the form of a rush of frigid air prickling my skin.

I pull out my sack of gold coins – five thousand gold to be exact – and shout into thin air. “Here’s your gold, Carl. Take it.” I hate owing favors and I don’t want him to get all smug about the fact that he bought me a Manta Style.

There is no response except the crackling of ice and electrical energies in the air.

“Show yourself now,” I demand. “I need to give you back your gold.”

“I’m having a bad hair day,” his disembodied voice sounds tight.

“I don’t really care,” I reply, feeling the chill breeze drifting further and further away. I don’t understand why he has to avoid me just because he isn’t looking his best. “Just take it.”

I contemplate throwing the bag of gold on the ground, just like what he did to me with the Manta Style. But I know he isn’t there anymore, so I’ll have to hold on to it. Drat.

Maybe I should buy him something with all that gold, I ponder, blinking up the hill towards the secret shop.

Carl is there, leaning against the shrine. He is not just having a bad hair day. His robes are torn and bloodied at various places, and there is a spear lodged in his ribs.

“Fuck,” I mutter. As if it is not bad enough that we have Riki and Pudge among our enemies - they are led by Mars, the God of War himself.

I blink right beside him, hesitating over how best I can help him. “Do you need me to -”

Just then, our ally Sven walks by and pulls out the spear with one effortless yank. I’m almost relieved that someone else did it. Carl’s screams are painful to my ears.

The shrine isn’t enough to heal him fully, so I fish around my pockets for a health potion. But before I can offer it to him, I find myself face to face with an ice wall. He just doesn’t want me to see him in his present state, I suppose.

I enter the secret shop, surveying the array of weapons and armor displayed on the shelves.

“Can I help you?” asks the shopkeeper.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat, feeling ever more awkward by the second. “What would the Invoker need?” Honestly, I have no idea what mages equip themselves with.

“Ah… the Invoker already owns an Aghanim’s Scepter,” ponders the shopkeeper with a hand to his chin. “He would appreciate a Scythe of Vyse.”

“What does it do?”

“It applies a hex on the enemy, turning them into a pig.”

How vile, I mutter inwardly. I enquire about the price, which is a little more than that of the Manta Style. “Give me a second,” I say. I rush out and pummel a few hellbears and trolls, which give me the extra gold needed.

I walk out of the shop clutching the funny-looking stick that resembles a chicken’s head. I can’t believe I’m exchanging gifts with the Invoker. How on earth did it come to this?

Lina happens to pass by, and the look on her face is enough to make me quickly disappear into the bushes. I don’t feel like answering any questions.

“Anti-mage!” I hear her hollering nearby. “Are you kidding me? Did you seriously get a sheep-stick? An anti-mage using a sheep-stick… we are so finished!” she moans in a dramatic way, typical of mages.

 

**Storm**

Our first big clash with the enemy looms like a dark cloud. The atmosphere is tense.

“Join us,” Carl whispers to me, spraying a fine mist at me. It is one of those magical items called the ‘smoke of deceit’.

The smoke tickles my chest and makes me cough while my body turns invisible. Another one of those lowly tricks I don't need. I’d rather be on my own, pushing a lane all by myself. It’s easier to focus without those mages and their flamboyant pyrotechnic displays.

Well, except that time when, right before a critical fight, Carl grabs my face and makes me look him in the eye.

“What are you doing?” I ask. Staring into those luminous white eyes makes me slightly uncomfortable, as if I’m staring into...

“Go!” he directs me without explaining. My body suddenly feels invigorated, my limbs tingle with limitless energy, and I am able to make short work of the enemies swiftly. 

“That was the Alacrity spell,” he says.

The battle concludes with him setting off the Electromagnetic Pulse on the enemies - a perfect set up for me to finish them off with a Mana Void.

“See, we can work well together,” he chuckles.

I bite my lip. Agreeing with him would make him even more swell-headed than he already is. With a shrug, I thrust him the Scythe of Vyse. Now I owe him no favors.

But the reaction on his face as he receives it is something quite unexpected. It is of genuine surprise and joy.

Carl is as unpredictable as the wind; the things he does are sometimes hardly appropriate. Such as taking a bath in the river right after a clash with the enemy. Sure, we killed four of them, but Pudge is still alive. And there are no wards near the river, which means Carl is leaving himself open to being hooked.

But there he is, immersed in the water, his clothes strewn all over the riverbank.

I stare at him for a moment, appalled at his brazenness. And then I look away. From the near distance comes the jingle-jangle of metal chains. But Carl doesn’t seem to care.

Damn. I can’t leave him there alone, but any sound I make would draw the attention of Pudge. So I step into the river intending to cross to the other side, keeping a lookout for threats.

Out of the corner of my eye, something glimmers a deeper blue in the water. I turn to look. It’s a double-damage rune, just a couple feet away from Carl. Reluctantly, I wade towards it.

Objectives, I remind myself, keeping my eyes on the rune.

Don’t look, I warn myself. But I look anyway.

He is collar-bone deep in the water, his hair fanning about him like a golden cloud. His eyes are closed, with some strands of wet hair plastered to his face. There is a hint of a smile on his lips.

I tear my gaze away and grab the rune, feeling my body tingle as its effects kick in. I realize I am also breathing slightly hard, probably in anticipation of danger. I continue wading till I reach the opposite side, somewhere between Carl and Dire territory. As expected, the hook flies out from the trees and I position myself right where it will hit me. It does, dragging me into the trees to meet the stinking mountain of blubber that is the Butcher. Ignoring the burning in my chest where the hook ripped off bits of flesh, I activate Manta Style just as the monster is about to chomp down on me, and wreck him in a few slashes.

I have no idea if Carl knows that I saved his ass, even if inadvertently. I don’t want to brag about it.

It is night time. I get ready for my meditation as usual. My current goal is to reach the next level of mastery in Counterspell, but to do this I have to first block out all distractions. Sometimes, these come in the form of memories of my fallen brothers from the monastery. Sometimes, it is the bloodshed of our ongoing war.

But this time, I find myself grappling with a different kind of distraction. My mind is hijacked by what I saw at the river earlier today. The thoughts intruding my head aren't just annoying; they are making me a little afraid. It looks like I will have to apply that special meditation technique of mentally destroying those damned body features.

I begin with the hair.

 

* * *

 


End file.
